


Thighs

by mmmdraco



Category: Love Actually (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/pseuds/mmmdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The position of Prime Ministerial Consort is not an official one. But there are expectations nonetheless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thighs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whisperingblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingblue/gifts).



Her face frozen in a smile, Natalie looked up at David's new secretary and laughed. "What d'you mean I'm supposed to be hostess at some holiday party? I can't do that!" She swallowed roughly. It was bad enough that she had to be kind of polite when she did come by the office to visit David. But to have to be some sort of society woman for a party for people she didn't know?

The secretary (Julie? Juniper? Did it even start with J?) placed a small book in front of her and a business card. "Call that number and make sure you speak with Sarah. She'll make certain you know what to do so you don't embarrass the Prime Minister. The book has important information regarding the various guests. You should familiarize yourself with it all." With a quick wave, the secretary was off. Natalie looked at the biscuits that had been delivered with her tea just before the secretary came by (and not the chocolate ones, she thought with more vehemence than she'd ever admit) and took a bite, smiling softly as crumbs scattered across the table. David had promised her that being married to him while he was in office was going to involve next to nothing on her part. Bit stupid of her to realize that wasn't quite the case. She brushed the crumbs off the business card and stared at it for a moment. Well, fuck.

At dinner that night, one of the few each week that David made it home for when he wasn't busy fixing the country, Natalie broached the topic with him. "So, this... I'm being told to talk to some woman about being the hostess at some party at 10 Downing so I don't fuck it up too much. Because you know me and you know I'm gonna say 'fuck' and I think I'm gonna be shit at it no matter what."

David tilted his head slightly as he looked at her, fork stuck in half of a chipolata and dripping grease back on his plate. "Well, so say fuck. It's not so much a party as it is welcoming the Prime Minister from Germany or Spain or... I suppose I should learn that. Have to ask Julia in the morning."

Julia. That was the new secretary's name. "I still don't want to be in the papers the next day for having done something stupid!" Natalie stabbed at the salad she'd served to contrast the fry-up. "I married David who happened to be the Prime Minister. I'm as like to tuck my dress into my panties as anythin' else at this thing. You can't want me doing that though. Maybe I should fake sick?"

"Hardly." David wiped his mouth and gave her that wry grin that had upped his opinion polls with every interview. "If you're worried about the panties... Just don't wear any. So what if you show off your rump to a bunch of old perverts? Who even cares if you spit wine out of your nose laughing at a joke? Perhaps this time we'll serve white instead of red. Karen got a new sweater out of the deal last time, though, so things worked out for the best. You didn't think the wedding was the last time you'd be in the news, did you? I thought we talked about this."

Natalie took a sip of her wine, mulling the liquid around her mouth for a moment. Certainly David had talked a lot about what would be expected of her as the Prime Minister's wife and she'd agreed to take on the job because it didn't involve much. After all, that wasn't why she'd gone after him. It had been a deterrent in the beginning, even. Well, except that bit of fantasy, anyway... But what he'd said exactly hadn't really sunk in because she was too busy realizing that she was marrying a man who could actually give her the wedding she'd dreamed about as a little girl. Her ex might have been able to afford the hors d'oeuvres they'd served at the reception, but then he probably would have hit on their caterer (Nancy? Natalie was beginning to suspect that she was good with names only among family and friends), but could never have swung the Vera Wang gown she'd worn. Fuck, he couldn't have gotten the ring she had for daily wear, let alone the massive canary diamond David had proposed with that she only ever wore on special occasions. At least she'd get to wear the ring at the party. "What am I s'pposed to wear, then? When's this thing even happening? I've got nothing dressy for this weather except that one white dress that hits that funny spot two centimeters below my knees."

"Ah, well, three days before Christmas. So, wear red. You're lovely in red. There with the black and white tiles with the place all done up, you'll be the prettiest thing in the room." The chipolatas were gone, so David turned to the homemade chips. They weren't quite seasoned enough, but he knew better than to do anything about it when Natalie was already showing her nerves.

Natalie tasted a chip of her own and added some salt, sliding it across the table to David without a thought. "Red. So my thighs can look massive."

David took the salt with a quirk of one eyebrow, sprinkling some onto the potatoes without a word on the topic. "Darling, the color of your dress won't change the size of your thighs. So what if someone thinks your thighs look a bit large? By virtue of belonging to you, your thighs are better than anyone else's."

"You're sweet, but sometimes you're a bit stupid. You just like to be between my thighs. Of course you'd compliment them." Natalie laughed softly. "Okay. For you. But I'm buying something brand new and horrendously expensive and the office can pay for it because it's for business use."

"Bilking the people of their tax dollars for fun and profit. Now you understand the appeal of the prime ministry!" David sipped his own wine quietly, swirling it around in the glass as he thought. "We could do the party here in 11 Downing if you'd prefer. Let them come in and see your stockings hanging in the bathroom and the obnoxious amount of sausages in our refrigerator and how horrid I am about picking up after myself."

With a snort, Natalie shook her head. "Fine. I'll do it. I'll talk to the nice lady and try to hold my tongue and I'll be quiet and pretty and thick-thighed."

"Oh, don't be quiet. Quiet is boring. I like you best when you're not being proper. That's the woman I want the world to know that I adore. They'll think that if I can manage to live with a woman like that then I must be a force to be reckoned with!" David finished his meal, leaving just a puddle of chipolata grease on the plate, and held out his hand toward Natalie. "Speaking of being between your thighs, though..."

Natalie finished her wine with a quick swallow and smiled. "Yes, let's!" The dishes could wait.

* * *

"Perhaps something floor-length?" Natalie glared at Sarah for the comment. Sarah glared back, her blonde everything almost too bright under the fluorescent lights. This was not a happy partnership.

"Won't there be cocktails? So I'll go with a cocktail dress. Hides the thighs as well as I can." Natalie smiled as sweetly as she could manage. She'd thought this woman would be giving her tips on how to behave, not attempting to dictate every moment of her life. "Then maybe I can still eat bread."

"The diet and exercise plan will help you feel your best for that night so that you may present better. It's been useful to many a woman in your situation."

Natalie imagined Margaret Thatcher forgoing croissants and doing squats. "I'll be me, thank you. David likes me better when I like myself and I quite like not having to say 'I'll have the salad with no croutons and light dressing'." She noticed another dress across the store that she liked and headed toward it, smiling as she imagined the look on Sarah's face, maybe bringing out the wrinkles that her expression so far had seemed to be trying so hard to conceal. The new dress was a deep red, just deep enough to look okay with her canary diamond, a bit more low-cut in the front than she normally went for, but it was the right length. "I'll try this one on." She picked up the dress and headed toward the fitting room, swallowing a giggle as she heard Sarah's heels tapping quickly against the floor to keep up.

She could get into the dress without help which gave it points in her book. It was the right length, the skirt didn't make her look any bigger than normal, there was a subtle detail to the way the fabric was draped that even made her stomach look smaller. She did a turn in front of the mirror. Sarah would tell her it showed too much skin and imply that if she was skinnier, she'd be _allowed_. But, she liked it and that was what she was going for. "Sold," she whispered to her reflection. She could hear Sarah outside the fitting room door clearing her throat. Time to buy the dress and move on to learning the proper way to address the various people she was about to meet and to learn the menu for the dinner to make sure she wouldn't ask, "What the fuck is this?" at some point.

* * *

Natalie took her place in front of the fireplace in the entryway of 10 Downing Street and pasted a smile onto her face. "David, do I look like a slag?"

"What? What nonsense are you on about?" David wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "With that said, I do like the view from here."

She grinned. "Well, good. Just stay around in case anyone else tries to get more than a view? Sarah came by for a final look and told me I might as well go out wearing a few doilies stapled together."

"If that's what I'm getting for Christmas, might I suggest Sellotape instead of staples?" David let his thumb brush against the strap of her dress. "Anyway, you look fabulous. Thighs and all."

She turned to kiss his cheek. "You're sweet. I do think this is a little lower cut than I thought it was in the store. You're sure it's okay?"

"As Prime Minister, I declare that you are a national treasure." David pressed a kiss to her lips, startled from it a moment later as some member of Parliament cleared their throat. "And now I believe I must take my place inside. We'll have visitors any moment now. Wow them!"

"At least my tits will!" Natalie covered her mouth. "Shit. Gotta watch that. And then I've gone and said shit again."

"That's my girl." David pinched her bottom, delighting in the noise she made. "In an hour or so, you'll get to join me. Maybe sooner if we can get everyone inside first. I promise a very happy Christmas if you don't run off and hit Sarah with one of the serving trays."

"I wouldn't use the serving trays! They've got the champagne on them. I'd go for that ugly vase." Natalie returned the pinch to David's bottom with a giggle. "Get in there. They're ready to open the doors."

Natalie took a deep breath and stood tall. Her mind was full of the little jibes that Sarah had sent her way. The photographers would be in any moment. Her hair was flawless, make-up just fine (she'd even had a photo taken a bit earlier to make sure that her finishing powder wouldn't show up under a flash), but the dress... Well. She liked it, anyway.

The doors opened and Natalie prepared herself to shake a lot of hands and get compliments on the ring and say 'Happy Christmas' until her throat ached.

Nearly fifteen minutes into the proceedings and Natalie was already tired of the photographers. Each guest seemed to require their own picture with her, though whose idea it was, she couldn't say. The line was so quick that there wasn't much time to say anything _but_ 'Happy Christmas' with a thrown in 'Welcome' when she could. It was then that the honored guest arrived. She'd learned along the way that it would be the Prime Minister of Denmark and she was prepared for the woman. She'd read up on her a bit, learned that her position was _statsminister_ in Danish, learned that she was several years younger than David... But that all fled from her mind the moment the woman was in front of her. "You're wearing my dress!"

The woman smiled and said something in what Natalie assumed was Danish and was probably nearly the same thing she'd just said. The photographers were going wild. Natalie pasted her smile back on and slid her arm through the Danish Prime Minister's arm, posing for the cameras. Sarah could hardly think that Natalie looked bad if their honored guest was in the same dress. Well, at least she couldn't say it to Natalie's face.

She'd be in the papers at this rate with no question. The real question, though, was whether there was going to be a 'Who Wore It Better?" feature somewhere. And if there was, if she'd win or lose.

* * *

On Christmas morning, Natalie found herself cuddled up against David's side in bed. His arm was around her side, fingers combing through the ends of her hair. He spoke softly as the room warmed from the sun. "I did feel rather sorry for the other PM. Her breasts couldn't hold a candle to yours."

Natalie slapped his stomach softly. "I happen to think we both looked fabulous."

"As do I, but I know where my preference lies. The woman who looked better in the dress was the one I got to help out of it at the end of the night." David kissed the top of her head. "You did see the quote from Sarah in the Mail, right?"

"She said it was obvious the dress was perfect for the occasion if two such important women wore it, right? But I think it's just because she has an in at that shop and knows that dress is about to sell out." Natalie took a deep breath. "We've got everything set up to bring to Karen and Harry's place, right? All the gifts for the kids?"

David nodded solemnly. "And both Karen and Harry promised that they won't wear the same dress as you. You'll be in the fashion magazines now, you know. What's that one you read? Would you like me to contact the press secretary and get you all set up for interviews?"

"I hardly think that'll be a problem. One dress does not a model make."

"So get more dresses." David reached over to the bedside table and picked up an envelope. "You have, as it stands, been invited to some New Year's charity gala. If you'd like to go, I suppose I could be your plus one."

Natalie grabbed the envelope and pulled out the invitation. "What do they mean sending this to you when the invite's for me? They just assume you'd go?"

"And support my loving wife's budding career as a mannequin?" David laughed. "Face it, darling, you're in demand. Wear what you want and let all of Great Britain know that you are the true power behind the pen or whatever. I'd say behind the throne, but they say I can't have one. Sends the message that I want to overthrow the monarchy. We both know I'd look lovely in the crown jewels, though."

"I hope that's what I'm getting for Christmas. I guess I need to start dressing up even on my off days. No more sweats except when I'm at the gym. So... no more sweats." She laughed and got out from under the covers as she set the invitation aside. "Ooo, it's cold this morning!"

"Perhaps if you were wearing clothes..."

She turned toward him. "Just my nipples saying 'Happy Christmas, sir'." She reached for her bathrobe and pulled it on. "You'll be okay if I spend your whole salary on designer clothing, right?"

David hissed inwardly. "Hit up, what is it, Topshop? At least a bit. Some Marks & Spencer? You may go crazy, certainly. I only ask that you leave enough that I can squeeze in the essentials."

"So, 50 pounds to spend on hair products and enough for a new suit. Got it." Natalie moved to stand next to the dress she'd chosen for the day. "And now I get to constantly wonder whether what I've got on is good enough."

David pulled on his own bathrobe and moved toward her. "You're in it. That's good enough for me. And if anyone says otherwise? I'll sue. You're the Prime Ministerial Consort. It might not be anything official, but you are protected from slander."

"Well, from libel 'cause that's the one in print. You can't do much 'bout what people say. Just by being your wife, I'm a public figure. It's kind of allowed to a point so long as it's about... Oh, fuck. Sarah's lectures sunk in."

"I'll see to it that we add brainwashing to the budget for next year. The Americans do earmarks like a dream. Perhaps the new President-"

"Would like me to kick him in _his_ crown jewels? Let's just carry on. By tea time, all will be well. But if you could tell them to bring me the chocolate biscuits?"

"Have they not been bringing you the chocolate biscuits?" David wrapped his arms around Natalie's waist. "Heathens. That will be my top priority tomorrow."

"See to it!" She let her hands cover his own on her stomach. "Do you think there are cute maternity clothes to be had in London?"

"What? You're not... Are you?" David spun her around.

Natalie laughed. "No. But I figure... I'm not working. I'm not the type to go spend a hundred thousand pounds on clothes. I want a family with you... and babies are good for re-election." 

His head rested against her own. "Then perhaps we should start trying. Sooner rather than later."

"Well, we do need to wash up. Have I told you what a fabulous multitasker you are?" Natalie reached back to pull the bow from the belt of David's robe, letting it fall open. "It is a day to do nice things for each other, after all."

David smirked. "Happy Christmas, darling."

"Happy Christmas indeed!"


End file.
